


You Can Always Break My Heart

by silverfoxflower



Series: Tumblr-style Commentfics and Drabbles [7]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 06:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1735286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverfoxflower/pseuds/silverfoxflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wandering down a backstreet of Brooklyn completely trashed in the middle of the day was probably not the safest thing to do, and neither was following Christine into a tattoo parlor surrounded by motorcycles. A bell jingled as Tony pushed into the door. He blinked slowly, eyes adjusting to the dark indoors before he remembered that he was still wearing his sunglasses. He slipped him off, looked around, and slipped them back on again. The tattoo parlor was full of bikers, who probably owned the motorcycles parked outside. Now, Tony wasn’t one to judge - really, he usually couldn’t be bothered - but each one looked meaner than the last. All of them wore patches with the stitching: The Howling Commandos</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Always Break My Heart

The first time Tony had wandered into The Captain’s Tattoo Parlor, he was drunk. The girl on his arm was a wannabe bad girl with pierced nipples and green-streaked hair, giggling into Tony’s ear about how much _hotter_ he would be with some ink.

Sure, whatever. Ten shots into a bottle of jack and Tony could finally admit to himself that he had nothing to lose. Obie had taken the company. Pepper had left him. His douchebag of a father made it pretty clear before he died that Tony would never live up to the Stark family name. All Tony had was money, alcohol and whats-her-face on his arm. Kathy? Katie? Ah, Christine.

Wandering down a backstreet of Brooklyn completely trashed in the middle of the day was probably not the safest thing to do, and neither was following Christine into a tattoo parlor surrounded by motorcycles. A bell jingled as Tony pushed into the door. He blinked slowly, eyes adjusting to the dark indoors before he remembered that he was still wearing his sunglasses. He slipped him off, looked around, and slipped them back on again. The tattoo parlor was full of bikers, who probably owned the motorcycles parked outside. Now, Tony wasn’t one to judge - really, he usually couldn’t be bothered - but each one looked meaner than the last. All of them wore patches with the stitching: The Howling Commandos

And here Tony was, standing in his rumpled Hugo Boss suit, being supported by a tipsy socialite.

"May I help you?" A man stepped away from the glowering crowd. He was wearing khakis and a light blue shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, a Sears catalog model in the middle of a bike gang. It should have made Tony feel at ease, but something told him that this man might be the most dangerous of them all. "Do you need directions?" He offered.

"Steve!" The man on the tattoo chair called after him.

"He’s here to get a tattoo!" Christine laughed, pushing Tony forward, and in a heartbeat, the look on Steve’s face changed from concerned to disapproving. Which, okay, Tony had a history with disapproving. It just made him want to push more.

"I don’t think that’s a decision you should be making right now." Steve said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. His big, strong arms over his muscular chest.

"Really?" Tony smirked, "That doesn’t seem like good business practice to me. I’d think that you’d get most of your business from bad decisions." His comment was met with scattered laughter.

Steve snorted, shaking his head. As he shifted, Tony could see the peek of dark ink under the collar of his shirt. It was strange that for a tattoo artist, Steve had no visible ink anywhere on his body. It only made Tony more curious about what he did have hidden. And _where_.

"You might not think so, Mr-"

"Stark," Tony smiled, openly flirting now, "Tony Stark. You may have heard of me?"

"You might not think so, Mr. Stark," Steve said, disapproval ratcheted up another couple of notches, "But I consider what I do art. And I have no desire to have my work be a regret for any of my customers. So you come back sober, Tony, or you don’t come back at all.” And with that, Steve turned on his heel back to the tattoo chair.

"Fine." Tony said faintly. There were a few amused looks as he headed for the door. As an afterthought, he looked around, "Christine?"

Christine, of course, was sucking face with the man on the tattoo chair.

"Bucky!" Steve said irritably, his hands on his hips, and Tony’s last thought before he exited The Captain’s Tattoo Parlor was one, he would come back sober, dammit, and two, he would get another glimpse of Steve’s tattoo if it killed him.


End file.
